


To Have and To Hold

by Bedalk05



Series: Geralt Deserves Soft Things [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/M, Found Family, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Self-Esteem Issues, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Communicating, Happy Ending, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier is Geralt’s Emotional Support Bard, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Friendship, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, Jaskier | Dandelion is Bad at Communicating, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Pack Bonding, Pack Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24376600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bedalk05/pseuds/Bedalk05
Summary: Even if Geralt is hopeless at communicating his feelings Jaskier knows that Geralt is devoted to him and only him. But when they reach the camp, Jaskier stands listlessly at the edge of the woods as he watches Geralt make a beeline towards Yennefer.That is, Jaskierthinksthat Geralt is devoted to him and only him.In which both men suck at communicating and it takes the power of everyone at Kaer Morhen to help them get their shit together. Also, Yennefer finally gets some cuddles of her own.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Vesemir/Original Female Character
Series: Geralt Deserves Soft Things [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742950
Comments: 225
Kudos: 1054
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	1. Doubts

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is in response to a couple of different comments/requests on my last two fics. So yes this one starts out a bit angstier than I usually have them but like all of my fics, it will end in fluff, cuddles, and sunshine. 
> 
> Pop quiz: who has the most insecurity and least communication skills in this chapter-Jaskier or Geralt? Guess what? It’s both of them!

Jaskier is doing great if anyone asks. Of course, no one does which is fine because, as he said, Jaskier is doing great. Sure, traveling with his mate’s ex isn’t Jaskier’s _favorite_ thing in the whole wide world but it could be worse! Geralt could be kissing her or fucking her or-fuck. 

Let him start over. Jaskier is doing great. He’s doing wonderfully. His inner wolf is certainly not clawing at him to rip the witch’s hand from where it is currently trailing along his mate’s arm. And he’s definitely not close to splintering his precious instrument. Nope. But just in case-fuck it. Placing his lute reverently down, Jaskier shifts and slinks into the woods. 

Whatever. Not like anyone will notice he’s gone anyway. 

As Jaskier runs through the trees in an attempt to burn off his brewing anger and pain, his mind races. This is the longest time he’s spent around Yennefer since he and Geralt have been together and it’s been torture. She constantly has her hands on him, sits too close, and goads and taunts Jaskier. But that’s not the worst bit. The worst bit is that Geralt _lets her_ and never says a word. 

It was easy to brush off his worry and jealousy when Yennefer would portal in and portal out for only brief periods of time but now Jaskier’s insecurities and doubts are peeling apart his composure. Jaskier needs to get his shit together. Because for the first time ever, Yennefer and Jaskier are wintering together. 

The winter after Geralt and Jaskier admitted their feelings for each other and Geralt found Ciri, Jaskier had already committed to performing at a court in Aedirn for the season. So though it made him want to tear at his skin, Jaskier watched Yennefer ride off to winter with his mate while Jaskier turned towards Oxenfurt. 

Part of him wasn’t sure come spring whether Geralt was going to return to him, having possibly changed his mind after spending time with Yennefer again. Jaskier’s relief then was all encompassing when Geralt not only demonstrated that his affections hadn’t waned but also expressed his wish for Jaskier to come to Kaer Morhen the following year. 

For the past two winters Jaskier and Geralt have travelled to Kaer Morhen while Yennefer trained Ciri elsewhere and it’s been wonderful. But Jaskier’s luck has finally run out and this year they are all wintering together. 

Of course he’s elated that he gets to spend more time with his pup, but at what cost? 

Jaskier is suddenly torn from his churning thoughts when a man shaped wall crashes into him in an all too familiar side tackle. Releasing a winded gasp as he crashes to the ground, Jaskier shifts so he can properly glare at the witcher currently looming over him. His irritation grows when instead of a guilty look Jaskier gets a glare in return.

“You know how I feel when you shift and disappear,” Geralt growls. Fuck. Under Jaskier’s tangled feelings of pain and anger is a flicker of guilt. Ever since last year when Marya came to winter with them and Jaskier ran and got hurt in that storm, Geralt has been a bit overprotective. “Shifting and sneaking off without telling Geralt” has fast overtaken “singing while Geralt attempts to hunt a monster” on the list of things that make the witcher want to simultaneously yell at and hold Jaskier tightly. 

But Jaskier is still too fired up to feel properly contrite. Squirming and kicking until he is out of the cage of Geralt’s arms, Jaskier looks away with a scowl. “Didn’t realize you’d notice I was gone,” he says sullenly. 

Roughened fingertips that have touched Jaskier in adoration and worship gently guide his face toward confused golden eyes. Jaskier needs to bite the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t just melt into the touch. “I always notice you Jaskier.” Damn the gods. How dare he say that with such sincerity? 

Averting his eyes from that burning gaze Jaskier grumbles, “Doesn’t always feel like it.” But before Geralt can stumble out a response Jaskier shakes his head and stands with a sigh. He’s being foolish. Jaskier knows that Geralt is devoted to him and only him. The witcher proves it with every touch, every act, every day. 

Just, when Yennefer is around, Geralt behaves differently. Though he’s protective of Jaskier if Yennefer makes any snide comments about his less than human nature, Geralt fails to stand up for him when she’s insulting in other ways. And then there’s the talking. Jaskier has gotten used to falling asleep curled around Ciri with an empty space beside him, while Geralt and Yennefer stay up chatting about...Jaskier doesn’t know. The first time Jaskier overheard words including “dragon” and “mountain” he decided to tune them out and go to sleep. That’s an experience he’d rather not revisit. 

But the worst is the touching. Yennefer is always touching Geralt and fighting to keep Jaskier’s wolf in check and not attack her is becoming draining. Her scent gets _all over_ his mate and it makes Jaskier’s instincts scream. Jaskier always goes a bit overboard with rubbing his scent onto Geralt to try to erase the witch’s stench but Geralt is a good sport about it, enduring it with only a little huffing and eye rolling. Whether Geralt understands what Jaskier is doing though and the significance of it is another story. 

But it’s all just getting to be too much. Jaskier doesn’t know how he’ll handle an entire winter of this torture but he better figure it out soon. 

As Jaskier begins trekking back to the camp with Geralt following, the bard wonders idly if Geralt will ask what he meant by his last comment. He’s only slightly disappointed when no question is asked. The witcher is happy to drop any conversation that requires talking about emotions and Jaskier is used to that. After all, even if Geralt is hopeless at communicating his feelings Jaskier knows that Geralt is devoted to him and only him. 

But when they reach the camp, Jaskier stands listlessly at the edge of the woods as he watches Geralt make a beeline towards Yennefer. 

That is, Jaskier _thinks_ that Geralt is devoted to him and only him. 

*******

As Geralt carries Ciri through the gates of the keep on his back with Yennefer trailing behind, Jaskier is in the midst of describing in detail what he plans to do once they settle in. Geralt is looking forward to the adult only version of events once little ears aren’t around. He’s distracted from the gutter his mind promptly falls into though by a shout. 

“Songbird!” Lambert bellows, and from one breath to the next, where a bard stood now a massive wolf runs to tackle the witcher braced with his arms spread out. The two go tumbling, wrestling each other with a ferocity that should be worrying but has only become common. Soon (so soon Geralt is already drafting up the insults he’ll be shooting at his brother) Lambert lays breathless on the cobblestones while a wolf is sprawled atop him happily gnawing away at his arm. 

A moment later, a blur of gray streaks through the courtyard, crashing into the wolf and a second wrestling match begins. This one lasts longer, the two wolves more evenly matched as they growl and snap at each other. 

As he watches, Geralt recalls the first time he witnessed the two wolves at it, how violent and ferocious it looked. Now he catches the tails wagging rapidly and has spent enough time with Jaskier’s shifted form to decipher between a growl that signals an attack and one that is made in play. 

“Whas goin on?” a sleepy voice yawns. 

“What’s going on is you’re going to bed,” Geralt rumbles in what Jaskier likes to call his “dad voice.” He does not have a dad voice. There is just a particular firm way that he needs to talk to Ciri sometimes. 

Geralt sighs at the shocked gasp and scrambling limbs as Ciri clambers down from him. He knew it wouldn’t be that easy. “Who is that?” she asks nervously. Tugging urgently at Geralt’s hand Ciri begs, “Go stop them before Jaskier gets hurt!” 

Geralt hesitates with a frown. Did they forget to tell Ciri about Jaskier’s mother? Fuck. Geralt is surprised that Jaskier didn’t blab all about it on their journey here. But now that he thinks about it the bard has been oddly quiet during their trek. And there was that cryptic remark after he snuck off a few nights ago. Geralt should probably ask Jaskier what’s wrong but he really doesn’t want to. If the bard is having second thoughts about their relationship (which Geralt wouldn’t blame him for-he’s surprised they’ve lasted so long) then Geralt is going to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Geralt knows he’s a selfish man and he’s okay with that. 

Scooping Ciri up again (and fuck she has really grown. How old is she now?) Geralt says, “You’ll meet her after you rest. It was a hard hike. Jaskier’s fine.” Geralt releases a surprised gasp when an elbow meets his gut. Fuck, he has an apology to make to Jaskier with how their first meeting went. And he has a talk he needs to have with Lambert about teaching Ciri dirty fighting techniques. Fuck, and that’ll probably consist of praising the younger wolf rather than lecturing him. 

As he recovers from a second elbow and gets distracted by the hilarious face Lambert will undoubtedly make when Geralt compliments him, Ciri manages to escape his grasp and begins running towards the two wolves rolling upon the ground. “Get off him!” she hollers, and gooseflesh runs up Geralt’s arms at the shiver of power laced in her words. Yennefer has been teaching Ciri control but the girl continues to lose it when she gets emotional. It’s been a source of frustration for the sorceress. 

Both wolves halt their wrestling, cocking their heads to look curiously at the teenager storming towards them. The gray wolf releases a snarl, baring her teeth when she spots the dagger sliding into the girl’s grip. Fortunately Lambert slides in her path, placing a steadying hand on Ciri’s shoulder. “Hey, hey squirt settle down,” Lambert coaxes. “There’s no fighting going on.” But Ciri isn’t having it, pushing tearfully at Lambert as her yells increase with power. 

Dammit, Geralt knows where there is heading. Sighing, he pulls off his tunic and throws it at the russet colored wolf a second before Jaskier shifts back to human. Geralt smothers the smile that threatens to break across his face at the cheerful grin and wink shot his way. Geralt has developed an almost sixth sense when it comes to Jaskier's shifts. 

Wearing nothing but Geralt’s tunic, that reaches his knees, Jaskier makes his way to the distraught teen, hushing her as he takes Ciri by her shoulders. “Hey there little pup deep breaths for me,” he soothes. 

Geralt’s heart clenches as the girl throws herself into Jaskier’s arms. Though Geralt had anticipated that Jaskier and Ciri would get along given the bard’s ability to be so fucking likable, the bond that they have formed is stronger than he could have ever hoped for. He never thought that he would get a family outside of Vesemir, Eskel, and Lambert but Geralt will never stop being grateful for having these two additions in his life. Which makes it that more urgent to avoid bringing up whatever is bugging Jaskier for as long as possible. He can’t lose this. Forget about him- _Ciri_ can’t lose this. Geralt can only hope that Jaskier will maintain his relationship with her after theirs is inevitably over. 

By the time Ciri has calmed down enough for Jaskier to explain, Vesemir and Eskel emerged from the keep and now two witchers were shirtless and two shifters were half naked. Fuck. What a tableau they make. 

Yes, this is certainly not the family Geralt ever expected but fuck does he desperately want to keep it. 


	2. Troubled Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first night at Kaer Morhen and something is up. Lambert has already begun planning Geralt's murder.

Dinner that night is an interesting affair. Everyone seems to be acclimating to having so many people in the keep, testing the dynamics and tension. 

Once Ciri learned that Marya was Jaskier’s mother, she looked horrified. It took some time to calm the girl down and between that and the difficult journey, she’s currently passed out in her room. 

Which leaves four witchers, two shifters, and a sorceress remaining. And Lambert’s feeling twitchy. Well, more twitchy than usual. It’s just, he’s gotten used to Songbird chatting up a storm, catching the rest of them up with animated tales of shit he and Geralt found themselves in. 

But now he’s quiet, subdued, stabbing at his meal like it personally offended him. Lambert shifts uncomfortably, glancing at Eskel to see a matching look of disgruntlement. Something’s up. He had seemed happy enough, greeting Lambert like he usually does, though Lambert definitely let him win. Certainly didn’t underestimate how strong the little wolf was again. And he was cheerful enough greeting everyone else. 

The only shift really happened when-ah fuck. When Geralt sat next to the witch. Fucking Geralt what the fuck is he doing? Lambert can’t stop a soft growl from slipping out. If he hurts their songbird Lambert is gonna beat him to a pulp. And for once Eskel would probably help. 

The witch looks up, probably feeling the heat of Lambert’s glare, and shoots him a scornful look that just raises his hackles. “I forgot how uncivilized the lot of you can be,” she remarks, tapping her wine goblet idly. Now there are two growls, Jaskier joining in with Lambert. “Geralt, I believe I shall retire to the library. The stench of masculine overcompensation is nauseating.” 

When she stands to leave, Lambert’s jaw drops as Geralt silently joins her. What. The. Fuck. Baffled, Lambert turns to Jaskier for an answer who is only wearing a wan smile. No, that’s not how he should look ever. What the hell is going on? 

“I think I’ll be tucking in early tonight. Long day.” The table is silent as the shifter shuffles off, a shadow of his usual bubbly self. 

Once he’s out of earshot Lambert allows his growl to raise in volume. “I’m gonna kill Geralt,” he snarls, slamming his fist on the table. 

“Mothers get first bite,” Marya says, eye flinty. 

Lambert shoots her a feral smile, only to frown when Vesemir speaks. Old coot is gonna try to talk them out of it, no doubt. “Let’s give them time to settle,” he cautions, causing Lambert to roll his eyes. Turning to look at Marya and ew no please don’t look so sappy he adds, “We'll try to get some information out of them tomorrow and if Geralt has harmed Jaskier, then certainly it is a mother’s right to defend her pup.” 

Ugh, Lambert’s eyes are burning-do they really have to kiss in front of him? Gods have some common decency. But at least Vesemir is on their side. Turning to look at Eskel, Lambert is satisfied to see a determined gleam in his eyes too. Perfect, they’re all on the same page. 

*******

Jaskier ascends the stairs, seething. The first night here and Geralt has already made it clear who he would rather spend his time with. He’s trying to keep his fractured heart in one piece but it’s getting harder and harder. The least the witcher could do is fucking admit to Jaskier's face that he's tired of him. 

Jaskier freezes at the threshold of his and Geralt’s room at the sound of whimpers. Ciri. Relational trouble pushed to the side, Jaskier shifts and runs down the hallway to where Ciri’s room resides. Jaskier and Geralt weren’t about to let her stay more than a few feet away from them and though Ciri tends to roll her eyes at their protective nature, she notably never protests. 

Nudging open the door, Jaskier pads into the darkened room where Ciri is tossing and turning, crying out into the night. With a leap, Jaskier settles onto the bed, jolting it enough to wake his pup up from her nightmares. Shooting upright, Ciri gasps for breath, chest rising and falling rapidly as frantic eyes search the room. 

When they land on Jaskier, the tension thrumming through her frame snaps and she slumps toward Jaskier with a sob. Whimpering, Jaskier crawls into her lap, allowing Ciri to bury her face and her tears into his fur. As Ciri grips him as though terrified he will disappear, Jaskier begins filling the room with a calming rumble, knowing the vibrations that travel through where they are connected help ground his pup. 

They remain there for long minutes, the only hint that time passes from the sobs that slowly begin to taper off. As Ciri releases a final shuddering sigh and raises her head, Jaskier turns around so he can gently lick her face clear of tears. He hates this bitter taste of salt, knowing it is evidence of his girl’s pain. 

Nuzzling into Ciri’s neck, Jaskier releases an inquiring whine. With a sigh, Ciri wraps her arms around the shifter and starts running her hands through his fur, breathing with each stroke. Slowly, haltingly, she begins to speak. 

It is a ritual that began quite unexpectedly. 

One night when Geralt was on a hunt and Jaskier was woken by Ciri’s cries, Jaskier comforted her as he always had. Instead of falling back to sleep though, Ciri began relaying to him what she dreamt of, the words coming slowly until they tumbled out like an avalanche. Memories of flame and blood, horror and death. 

Until that moment, nothing Jaskier or Geralt had said or done would get Ciri to open up. After she finished retelling her story, Ciri began sobbing again, this time with relief. The next morning, Ciri hugged Jaskier when he was shifted back as a human. “Can we do that again sometime?” she asked tentatively in his ear. 

Since then, whenever Ciri has a nightmare or memories darken her thoughts, the two of them curl up together and she will speak. Something about having someone to talk to who can’t respond but who Ciri can confirm is there and alive and listening is reassuring for the girl. And though words of love and comfort always claw at Jaskier’s throat, he accepts this compromise, grateful that he can help even a little. 

Tonight’s dreams are different however. They featured Jaskier in his shifter form fighting Geralt until they both lay dead. Fuck. Jaskier thought that he had been hiding the tension between him and Geralt well but clearly not. A wave of guilt rushes over him. He never wanted to add to the poor teen’s nightmare fodder. Jaskier needs to do better. Geralt too. 

Once Ciri is done speaking, Jaskier turns to desperately lick off the fresh tears still streaming down her cheeks with a pleading whine before snuffling in her ear as he did the first night they met. It never fails to earn him a smile, however weak or trembling. Tonight Jaskier feels unworthy of it. 

Scooting down the bed, Ciri lies back on her pillow, arm thrown around Jaskier and face buried into his fur. “I love you Jask,” she whispers. In response, Jaskier tugs three times on a loose strand of her hair as he does every time he is in this form. _I love you too my sweet_ he thinks as he begins a steady rumble to ease Ciri back to sleep.


	3. Eskel and Lambert, PIs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel and Lambert are on the case!

The next day everyone but Ciri and Yennefer throw themselves into repairs and preparing the keep for winter. Meanwhile, Ciri and Yennefer go to another part of the keep to train. 

Geralt is working with Eskel to replace part of a rampart when he huffs out an irritated sigh. “I can feel your glare through the back of my head,” he grumbles. 

Eskel only hums in response. Recalling Jaskier’s remark last winter when Geralt and Eskel were both humming Geralt releases a fond chuckle. “What’s so funny?” Eskel grunts as he lifts a large stone to its slot. 

Smiling softly, Geralt finishes sealing the section he’s working on. “Just thinking about Jaskier,” he mumbles.

“Hmm.” Time passes in silence, tension still brimming in the air driving Geralt to distraction. “How are you two doing?” Eskel eventually asks, head bowed away from Geralt as he works to seal the latest addition to the rampart. 

Geralt pauses. Though Eskel is arguably the most comfortable with talking about feelings amongst the three of them, even he has never attempted to ask about Geralt’s relationship status. Fitting another stone slowly into the wall Geralt says carefully, “We’re doing fine.” 

Eskel grunts. “Seemed off last night.” 

Furrowing his brow, Geralt tries to recall how Jaskier acted the previous evening. Like usual, he reacted negatively to Yennefer’s goading, which Geralt really wishes he would stop doing. Doesn’t he realize that only encourages her? And if Geralt butts in she’ll think he’s taking sides and then that’s three night’s of work down the shitter.

Geralt is having a hard enough time trying to get Yennefer to accept their relationship. So when she stalked off Geralt followed her. He needs this winter to go well so that those two don’t explode at each other. Jaskier is more attuned and in control of his emotions so Geralt knows that he can deal with Yennefer's taunts. But if Geralt doesn’t get Yennefer to put down some of her weapons then this winter was going to be a fucking disaster. 

Every night he’s been staying up late with her, trying to convince her to give Jaskier a chance and showing that he’s not leaving her. Because that's a whole other issue. Geralt knows that Yennefer is afraid of that, whether she’ll admit it or not. All her life she’s been cast aside, seen as wanting, and has built more walls than Geralt in order to cope with it. So Geralt knows that his relationship with Jaskier hits her hard and also just genuinely confuses her. 

Geralt can only hope that soon Yennefer will understand that he’s not removing her from his life even if they never return to what they had. And thank the gods for that. Geralt hadn’t realized what love was supposed to feel like until he opened himself up to Jaskier’s. What he had with Yennefer could never compare and Geralt is relieved that part of their relationship is over. Hopefully Yennefer can find the love one day that Geralt has with Jaskier. After all the pain she’s endured, Yennefer deserves it. But he wants to be friends with her, and he knows that Yennefer does too. If she would just stop being so bloody _stubborn._

But Eskel’s words are concerning. Turning away from his work, Geralt settles on the rampart so his feet dangle over the edge. “What do you mean about last night?” he rasps. 

Eskel plops down beside him and shrugs. “Just wasn’t the cheerful bard we’ve all grown to like,” he explains awkwardly. “Seemed like something was eating at him.” 

Fuck. Geralt feels like he’s galloping on Roach and losing control of his reins. How can he keep Yennefer from blowing up at the bard while convincing Jaskier not to leave him? He’s feeling tugged two ways at once and doesn’t know what to do about it. 

Clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder Eskel rumbles, “You should talk to him Geralt.” 

”Hmm,” Geralt says, mind racing. 

“If you have time sitting around scratching your arses you’ll have time to run the walls this afternoon,” Vesemir barks from down below. Aw fuck. Like this day couldn’t get worse. 

*******

Jaskier is humming along as he and Lambert are unloading and organizing all the supplies and food the witchers have hauled up together. Lambert has been unusually quiet so Jaskier has decided not to prattle on, allowing the wolf to gather his thoughts instead. Something is clearly on his mind. 

As he begins obsessively organizing the spices in a cupboard Lambert remarks casually, “So Songbird, anybody’s ass I gotta kick?” 

Jaskier pauses from where he is unloading the final cart. Okay-not the question he was expecting. “Not that I know of?” Jaskier ventures, carrying over the box of food to sort by the counter. 

Whirling around, Lambert fixes Jaskier with a piercing stare, crossing his arms stiffly. “Couldn’t help but notice you weren’t chattering our ears off last night.” Fuck. Even _Lambert_ noticed something was wrong? Gods Jaskier really needs to get his shit together.

Shrugging, Jaskier begins sorting the various items in the box. “Like I said, it was a long journey and I was tired,” Jaskier remarks nonchalantly, studying the contents of a bag to decide which pile to place in. Would this count as perishable or non-perishable? 

“Bullshit.” 

Turning to the witcher Jaskier raises a brow. “Sorry?” he says amusedly, gulping when Lambert strides over so there is no space between them. 

“What’s wrong Songbird. Give me the word and I’ll pummel Geralt into the ground,” he growls. Despite the threats of bodily harm to the love of his life Jaskier’s heart pulses with fondness. He never would have imagined two years ago that Lambert would be able to express his affection so clearly. Because yes, threats of violence on behalf of Jaskier is 100% Lambert’s version of “I care about you and am worried about your well-being.” 

Suddenly Jaskier can feel his eyes burning. Fuck. So much for keeping it together. At any other time Jaskier would laugh at the look of outright panic crossing Lambert’s face as Jaskier begins to cry. Instead, curling in a ball on the ground, Jaskier allows himself to express the pain and insecurity he has been feeling for the past few weeks. 

Fist clenching like he is longing for his sword, Lambert crouches so he’s in Jaskier’s vision. “Stay right here Songbird I’ll drag him over once I’ve broken a few bones,” he says anxiously before moving to leave. 

Shooting an arm out Jaskier wraps a trembling hand around Lambert’s bicep. “Please don’t,” he croaks. 

Shifting back to look at him Lambert taps rapidly on a thigh. “Then what can I do?” he finally asks helplessly. In response, Jaskier simply opens up his arms. After staring at the bard for an incomprehensible moment, Lambert slowly tilts forward until he is wrapped in an embrace. Burying his face into Lambert’s shoulder, Jaskier just lets himself cry. After a frozen moment, Lambert awkwardly begins to pat Jaskier on the back, nuzzling the bard’s neck fondly. 

Running footsteps signal company and Lambert wraps his arms tighter around Jaskier, snarling warningly at whoever dares to bother them. When Marya comes skidding through the door, followed by Vesemir a second later, Lambert relaxes. “What happened?” Marya demands. 

Shrugging helplessly Lambert mumbles, “I did like we said and tried asking what’s going on and then he just started crying and I I think I broke him.” 

The soft body under him stiffens suddenly. Peering up at the newcomers Jaskier rasps, “What do you mean ‘like we said?’” He watches warily as Marya settles beside them, feeling not unlike a cornered animal. 

Despite himself, Jaskier can’t help but go lax as Marya strokes softly through his hair. “We were worried about you Buttercup” she says softly. “We could tell something was wrong last night.” Sighing heavily, Jaskier burrows deeper into Lambert’s shoulder. Fuck. No avoiding it-he can’t lie to Mar-mar. 

Rearranging himself so he’s curled in Lambert’s lap with the witcher’s arms wrapped protectively around him Jaskier stares broodily into space. Looking up at where Vesemir is leaning against the wall Jaskier states bluntly, “Wolves mate for life.” When all he gets is a raised eyebrow in response Jaskier snarls in frustration. Lambert rumbles soothingly, tightening his embrace, causing Jaskier to grow limp again. 

“Wolves mate for life,” he repeats dully. “I haven’t told Geralt this yet. And if he wants to leave me I’d appreciate him telling me sooner rather than later so I can get started with my eternal bachelorhood,” he finishes with a sob. As he buries his head into Lambert’s chest the witcher releases a worried whine, swiveling to stare at Marya pleadingly. 

Drawing the bard into her lap, Marya begins stroking through Jaskier’s hair as she hums a familiar melody from his childhood. Jaskier latches onto the sound like a tether as he tries to claw back from the dark future he foresees for himself. Shortly after they confessed their feelings to each other Jaskier’s inner wolf let Geralt know that it saw him as a mate. But Jaskier omitted the fact that when a wolf mates it’s for life. Geralt probably just thought it meant they had a strong bond which can be broken if they lose interest in each other. Jaskier is fucked.

But soon he has calmed down a tad, soothed by the scent and sound of his mother. A moment later Vesemir speaks. “I know I can’t speak for what you have been experiencing, and knowing Geralt he’s no doubt been an utter git-” Jaskier snorts wetly at that. "But I’ve practically raised that boy and I can tell you with absolute certainty that he is head over arse for you and only you.” 

“Yeah you can smell his love for you-it’s disgusting,” Lambert adds with a smirk. 

“But that’s a whole other problem!” Jaskier exclaims, sitting up and raking his hands through his hair irritably. “Since we’ve met up with Yennefer and Ciri he spends all his time with that witch and her smell gets all over him and I just want to-” Jaskier breaks off into a growl, echoed by Marya’s own. 

At Vesemir’s inquiring hum Marya thankfully takes over. “Scent is important to wolves. It’s how we mark our territory. Yennefer is essentially like a wolf encroaching on Jaskier’s territory and marking his mate and the fact that he hasn’t attacked her yet is a damn miracle.” Turning to look back at Jaskier Marya presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “Proud of you pup,” she utters softly. Warmth floods Jaskier’s chest at his mother’s words and he nuzzles her head affectionately, earning a chuckle. 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Lambert says slowly. Opening up his arms he gestures to how he and Jaskier were entwined. “Isn’t it kinda hypocritical Songbird with how you and I were a second ago?” 

Oh, right. Jaskier rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, turning a pleading gaze toward Marya and receiving an unimpressed look in response, Jaskier releases a pitiful whine. “Well, you see,” he starts slowly, leaning forward to fiddle with Lambert’s medallion, “It’s natural for a pack to smell like each other.” Biting his lip, Jaskier watches for Lambert’s reaction anxiously, chest tight. 

Lambert frowns, eyes flicking from Jaskier to Marya to Vesemir to the doorway and back to the bard like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. Finally he cocks his head. “Were we all adopted into your pack without knowing it?” he finally asks dubiously. 

Hanging his head Jaskier nods morosely. “Sorry?” 

Jaskier’s head shoots up at Lambert’s bellowing laugh. Hooking an arm around Jaskier’s neck Lambert musses his hair, chortling at the bard’s indignant squawks. “Welcome to the family little bro!” he exclaims, grinning at the irritated look being shot his way as Jaskier squirms to escape his grasp. When Lambert finally releases Jaskier, he shifts with a growl before tackling the witcher. 

Soon they’re both rolling around the scattered supplies, limbs flying, and with a sigh Vesemir walks away, Marya following. “Ruin anything in that room and you’ll be paying for it with extra wall runs,” he calls, chuckling at the crash and worried whimper that follows his pronouncement. Time to go have a chat with a certain troublesome pup.


	4. Let's Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vesemir has an interesting definition of "talk." Jaskier may have an aneurysm from pure frustration. It's going great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading and giving kudos and comments! Final chapter will come out tonight and it will feature Geralt (gasp) expressing his emotions and Yennefer and Jaskier coming to an understanding. Stay tuned!

Eskel and Geralt are finishing up their stretch of wall when a sharp whistle sounds from below. Leaning down, they both gulp at Vesemir’s look. That face always preceded a beating or extra brutal training exercises. Knowing it’s better not to keep him waiting, both witchers dismount from the rampart, landing before their mentor. “Geralt, with me. Eskel, go check on Jaskier.” 

With a nod, Eskel peels off, leaving Geralt with a sinking feeling in his stomach. “What’s wrong with Jaskier?” 

Geralt shrinks at the side eye sent his way. “Let’s talk.” Oh fuck. Talking is worse than beatings. 

Geralt is surprised when instead of going to Vesemir’s office the old wolf leads them to the armory. Wordlessly, Vesemir picks up a sword before handing Geralt one as well and heading towards the training ground. “Swords only, no signs,” he commands, settling into a fighting stance. 

Confused but knowing better than to question his former instructor’s orders, Geralt lunges for a strike. Immediately, Geralt’s mind is wiped of questions and all that is left is cut, parry, counter, chop, retreat, feint, lunge, thrust. 

Which means that Geralt stumbles when Vesemir starts talking like they were relaxing over a cup of mead. “You’ve fucked up pup,” he remarks mildly as he thrusts into Geralt’s guard. Twisting in a clumsy dodge, Geralt retreats to reset before advancing with a feint and chop which is easily blocked. 

“What I do this time?” Geralt grunts, parrying Vesemir’s counterattack. 

“Your bard,” Vesemir says, spinning and lunging for Geralt’s shoulder. 

Backpedalling as he raises his sword just in time Geralt growls, “I know he’s having second thoughts about us.” 

Before he can keep going, Vesemir barks out a laugh, effortlessly blocking another of Geralt’s attacks. “Far from it boy, but now I see you’ve had your head deep in your arse if you think that’s what the problem is.” Faltering, Geralt is a touch too slow when he tries to dodge Vesemir’s swipe across his chest. Wincing at the sting as the blade digs into his waist, Geralt rolls to try to attack from the side, only to have Vesemir parry with a yawn. 

Retreating Geralt grits out, “What the fuck is the problem then? Enlighten me.” 

A hardened glint shines in his instructor’s eye. “You have a responsibility to Jaskier. If you can’t figure out what’s wrong, if you refuse to bring up your concerns with him, then you are not worthy of him.” And as Geralt tries to recover from the blow of Vesemir’s words, the older witcher advances with footwork Geralt can hardly follow. With a twist and feint, Vesemir sneaks into Geralt’s guard and digs a harsher line across Geralt’s chest before placing his blade gently against Geralt’s neck. “Talk to him. Fix this. Or Marya gets her turn next.” 

Gulping, Geralt turns to where the woman in question is idly playing with a dagger, staring at Geralt with a glare that burns. Fuck. He better track down Jaskier. 

But Geralt is relieved to find he doesn’t need to because at that moment Jaskier, flanked by Eskel and Lambert, emerges from the dining hall. And fuck-are his eyes red? Spotting Geralt, Jaskier gasps and comes running. 

Hovering his hands over what Geralt now registers is a blood stained shirt Jaskier frets, “Oh come, let me patch you up,” before glaring at Vesemir and poking him in the chest. “I’ll deal with _you_ later,” he growls, huffing when Vesemir simply looks on placidly. 

As Geralt allows himself to be dragged away he racks his brain for what to say, what to ask, what to do to save their relationship.

*******

Jaskier’s emotions are a mess. He was enjoying a lovely cuddle session with Eskel and Lambert when Eskel lifted his nose. “I smell blood,” he frowned. 

All Lambert huffed in response was, “Probably Geralt’s. Bastard deserves it.” 

Jaskier was horrified when he realizes Lambert was right. What was Vesemir thinking? Shouldn’t they use training swords or just spar to first blood or something? This is _certainly_ more than first blood. 

As Jaskier mutters and fusses over Geralt’s wounds the witcher watches on with bemusement. “They’re not deep at all,” he rumbles. “Vesemir knew what he was doing.” 

Scowling Jaskier huffs, “Doesn’t make it better. Don’t know what he was thinking.” 

Capturing Jaskier’s hands, Geralt brings them to his lips. “He was defending you. Teaching me a lesson.” 

Oh fuck. Vesemir, of course you were. Collapsing on their bed, Jaskier releases a groan. Stupid witchers and using their stupid weapons to make a point and corner Geralt and Jaskier into talking about their shit. Gods Jaskier is sorely tempted to shift right now but he knows Marya will be disappointed with him. 

A second weight sinks on the bed and soon Jaskier’s head is placed so it's in Geralt’s lap. “Talk to me?” Geralt rumbles, gently carding his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. And gods how is Jaskier supposed to resist those puppy dog eyes?

Clinging to Vesemir and Lambert’s reassurance that Geralt _does_ love him, Jaskier releases a steady breath. “What have you noticed over the past few weeks Geralt?” 

“Hmm.” 

Jaskier groans. He refuses to engage in a one sided conversation. Like he senses his frustration, Geralt speaks. “You’ve been quieter, more distant. 

Jaskier releases a rueful laugh at that. _“I’ve_ been distant?” he asks incredulously, opening his eyes to stare up at Geralt in bafflement. Geralt frowns at him and gods _why_ did Jaskier fall in love with the most emotionally inept man on the Continent? Oh right, because he’s also the most kind-hearted, generous, protective, funny, and gentle man on the whole Continent. Fuck. 

When Geralt doesn’t make another comment Jaskier growls with frustration and lifts himself to turn and face the witcher. “Yennefer?” he prompts, hoping that one name will get Geralt to understand what he’s getting at. When Geralt furrows his brow Jaskier takes ten slow breaths so he doesn’t scream. 

“I’ve been talking to her a lot I suppose but it's all part of the plan you agreed to,” Geralt says slowly. 

Jaskier only gapes at him. What?!

“What?!” he squeaks. 

Cocking his head Geralt remarks, “You knew this. We had a whole conversation about it.” 

Jaskier starts laughing. A bit hysterically. You can’t blame him. Stumbling to his feet as he continues to giggle Jaskier points wordlessly between him and Geralt. “You-we-I-NEVER!” he manages. 

Gritting his teeth to let out a silenced scream Jaskier closes his eyes and counts to ten again. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Remember you love this man, breathe out. You don’t want to kill this man, breathe out. Even if it’s becoming very tempting, breathe out. 

Finally, Jaskier opens his eyes, pressing his hands against the bed. “Geralt? Love of my life, heart of my soul, pain in my arse, what conversation are you referring to _exactly?”_ he grits out as calmly as he can. 

Geralt moves to touch Jaskier before hesitating. “When I first suggested Yennefer and Ciri winter with us so we can train her a bit more I asked if it was okay if Yennefer and I become friends because I was afraid she was lonely. And I mentioned how I thought she needed to understand our relationship a bit more so she understood what love really is. And you said you were okay with that.” 

Jaskier blinks at Geralt. “Give me just one second,” he says brightly. Shifting forms, Jaskier releases a long, frustrated howl, rumbling with satisfaction when Marya returns with a commiserating howl of her own a moment later. 

Shifting back, Jaskier begins methodically placing his clothes back on. “Geralt, my love, my heart, my soul, my bloody cause of an early death due to stress, _no where_ in that conversation did you say, ‘Jaskier, light of my life, when I go about convincing Yennefer to accept our relationship and my offer of friendship I may spend less time around you and I may not defend you from her bitchiness as much and, oh yeah, I’ll let her _get her hands all over me,_ ” he ends with a snarl.

It’s Geralt’s turn to blink this time. “Hmm.” _Give him time give him time give him time before you start strangling him,_ Jaskier chants to himself. “I hadn’t noticed she was being so touchy,” Geralt finally admits with an awkward shrug. “I’m used to her touching me a lot more actually.” 

That got Jaskier’s hackles up. Gripping Geralt’s medallion, Jaskier tugs the witcher toward him. “Listen to me Geralt of Rivia, you are my _mate_ and, news blast! Wolves mate for fucking life so unless you are 200% committed to this relationship end it now for both our sakes because I swear if I keep smelling her on you I am going to _claw her eyes out."_

Huffing, Jaskier watches Geralt’s eyes widen in shock. Fuck. The last thing Geralt of “I don’t know how to handle emotions, especially love and affection and I run screaming the other way when cornered to express them” Rivia needs is a fucking ultimatum. Releasing the chain like he’s burnt Jaskier backs up. 

He opens and closes his mouth, trying to take back all his words so the best thing that has happened to Jaskier since he discovered the dusty lute in his father’s study doesn’t walk out of his life. Gulping Jaskier watches as Geralt slowly approaches him, preparing himself for a blow of the emotional or physical variety. 

When a rough thumb brushes along Jaskier’s lips instead the shifter opens his mouth in question before swallowing at the heat in that golden gaze he could sing a hundred ballads about. “You would attach yourself to me for your whole life?” the witcher breathes and fuck is that _shock_ in his gaze? Has Jaskier truly not convinced this infuriating man how devoted he is? 

Too many emotions running rampant through him, Jaskier simply nods, whimpering when a second later desperate lips claim his own. Digging his fingers in Geralt’s hair, Jaskier pulls the witcher to him until they are pressed together, biting at his lips and trying to pour all of his love into every touch. Geralt gives just as much, fingers scrambling under Jaskier’s chemise to stroke up and down his back as he licks into his mouth. 

Finally breaking apart, Jaskier bites his kiss-swollen lips as he gazes searchingly into Geralt’s eyes. “So does this mean-” 

Shutting Jaskier up with another kiss Geralt languidly traces his way into the bard’s mouth before pulling away once again and gazing at Jaskier with molten gold eyes. “Yes Jaskier. I want to be with you all my life.” Drawing away to rake his hands through his hair Geralt swears. “Fuck Jaskier I’m so sorry,” he says raggedly. “I’m shit at this, I never meant to hurt you.” 

Wrapping his arms around the witcher, Jaskier presses their foreheads together. “In your defense, I knew words are not your forte and I still waited for you to say something.” 

Jaskier whines at the pained expression crossing Geralt’s face. “You shouldn’t have to always be the one to speak up,” Geralt grits out. Closing his eyes Geralt snarls, “You deserve someone better.” 

Geralt growls when a finger flicks his ear. “None of that,” Jaskier says briskly. “Now, I suggest we have some wonderful make-up sex and then return to the rest of the pack so they know we haven’t killed each other." 

“Pack?” Geralt inquires with a quirk of his brow. Moaning Jaskier thumps his head against Geralt’s chest. “I didn’t mean to,” he whines cryptically. 

Huffing out a laugh Geralt presses a kiss to Jaskier’s head. “If you say so little wolf.”


	5. Puzzle Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt gets a long awaited shovel talk. Jaskier confronts Yennefer. Ciri thinks she's old enough to swear. Lambert and Eskel are still scarred by what they saw last winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIED. One more chapter whoops. Thank you to everyone commenting and hitting kudos!! I promise I will respond to them all after I finish posting the final chapter!

When Jaskier and Geralt make their way downstairs, the shifter looking incredibly smug and the Witcher look incredibly self-satisfied. Jaskier’s smirk morphs into a soft smile when he spots Ciri perched on Marya’s lap, chattering away. It’s a relief to see them getting along after the rocky start they had yesterday. Eskel and Vesemir are in an intense game of Gwent while the smell of something delectable drifts from around the corner. Lambert must be cooking. Fuck dinner is gonna be delicious tonight. 

Geralt frowns as he takes in the room and doesn’t see Yennefer. He needs to talk to her. 

At their entrance everyone except Ciri turns to Geralt with matching scowls “Ready for another round boy?” Vesemir rumbles. Geralt gulps. Fuck, he knows that Vesemir had caught him off guard but losing so easily to the old man was still embarrassing. 

Shaking his head Geralt mumbles, “There was a slight misunderstanding. We cleared it up.” 

Scoffing, Jaskier strides into the room, shamelessly peeking at Eskel’s hand before placing a card down. “More like we had two entirely separate conversations darling.” Right, apparently. Fuck. Geralt really fucked up. Even though they talked things out and Geralt explained and apologized for not defending Jaskier more and pulling away from him, he still feels like he needs to make up big time. Jaskier forgives too easily. It’s been like that their entire relationship. From the gut punch to the dragon hunt to countless instances in between Geralt has repeatedly been a bastard to Jaskier and the shifter takes it in stride. He shouldn’t have to. 

Geralt frowns as after a brief exchange with Vesemir, Jaskier turns around and heads back out the dining hall. Snagging him by the arm Geralt draws Jaskier close. “Where are you going?” he asks. He doesn't want to part with the bard so soon. Everything feels raw. 

“To Yennefer,” Jaskier explains with a quick peck on the cheek. Oh fuck. That can’t go well. He should tag along. 

“Geralt!” Marya snaps, and like a soldier Geralt finds himself whipping around to respond. As he’s distracted by the shifter stalking towards him Jaskier sneaks out. Fuck. “With me boy,” she growls. 

Falling in step with the shifter Geralt grumbles, “Vesemir said he wouldn’t turn you on me if I talked to Jaskier.” 

Barking out a laugh Marya snorts, “That man may be many things but even he knows he can’t control me.” All signs of good humor evaporating she turns to glare up at Geralt. “You and I are gonna have a talk we should’ve had two years ago,” she growls. For the second time that day, Geralt finds himself being led to the armory, this time so Marya can retrieve a bow and quiver. Notably, the shifter doesn’t offer Geralt a weapon. Geralt takes the message without a word. 

Following her silently, Geralt and Marya trek out of the keep until they make it to some woods. Hunkering down behind a log, Marya gestures for Geralt to do the same. Then they sit in silence. Now Geralt usually likes silence. In fact, the biggest thing he had to get used to when he acquired a chattering bard was the _lack_ of silence. But this silence isn’t comforting. Quite the opposite in fact. 

Geralt is brimming with tension, ready for the shouting to start. But Marya simply nocks an arrow and braces her arms upon the log, eyeing something in the distance. When she lets loose, a thump tells Geralt that she hit something but he can’t tell what. Fuck, he didn’t realize her vision was so good. Will Jaskier’s eyesight grow that strong one day? Was it already that strong and he’s just never told Geralt? 

“Julian is my entire fucking world,” Marya finally states calmly, loosing another arrow. “And Vesemir has slowly entered my heart. The only reason you don’t have several new holes in your body is because of my respect and affection for your instructor, so you best thank him for saving your hide when we return.” Geralt says nothing. At least that implies Geralt will be going back alive. Whether he remains in one piece is yet to be determined however. 

“I fucked up,” Geralt agrees, eyeing her form appreciatively as Marya shoots another arrow. Damn she gives Geralt’s old archery instructor a run for his fucking money. “What can I do to make up for it?” 

For the first time since they began speaking, Marya turns to look at him. “You tell me,” she grunts, raising a challenging brow. 

Blowing out a steady breath Geralt studies the ground. He thinks about everything Jaskier means to him and replays their conversation from earlier. What can Geralt do to show Jaskier how much he cares for the shifter, everything that the bard is to him? What gesture can he make to show his devotion so Jaskier never doubts his love again? And suddenly it clicks. “Fuck I wanna marry him,” Geralt says in shock. 

A fierce grin crosses the shifter’s face. “Right answer,” she nods, before hopping over the log and hooking her bow over her quiver. “Come along.” 

The pair walk in silence as Geralt reels from his realization. Shit but how should he ask Jaskier? How would like do it? Jaskier would want it right? Of course-he practically proposed to Geralt already. “How should I propose?” he asks his companion. 

Shaking her head, Marya continues to trudge through the snow. “We’ve helped you enough boy, the rest is up to you.” Deflating, Geralt continues to ponder this latest challenge until they reach a short tree several yards from where they had been stationed. In the center of the tree were three arrows lodged within each other. Fuck-how did she do that? 

Pulling each of them out, Marya turns back to Geralt, tapping them on her palm. “I don’t like you Geralt. I think Julian has given you one too many chances. But for whatever reason he loves you.” Pressing the arrows against his chest the shifter snarls, “You hurt him again, and you won’t see my arrows coming before you’re dead.” Speechless, Geralt nods. Message received. 

*******

Jaskier finds her in the library, flipping through a book as she lounges in a chair. “What do you want bard?” she drawls without looking up. 

“We need to talk,” Jaskier states, settling in a chair across from her. 

“Oh do we?” Jaskier forces himself to breathe through her derision. Do this for Geralt.

“Yeah see, Geralt and I both agree that I’m the one who knows how to use his words in our relationship so I should perhaps take over here.” Plucking the book out of Yennefer’s hands Jaskier leans forward to stare her down. “So here’s what I have to say. Geralt and I work because we both mutually respect and love each other and would go to the ends of the earth for one another. Geralt and you did not work because all you knew to do was use him for your own means and Geralt was drawn to you because you were equally as damaged as him.” 

“How dare-” but Yennefer snaps her mouth shut at Jaskier’s raised hand.

“All Geralt wants for you is happiness because he’s just that good of a person. So you and I are done fighting and you are done putting your hands all over him unless you join the keep’s nightly cuddling sessions.” 

With his speech done, Jaskier leans back in his chair, spreading his hands for the rebuttal he knows is coming. “And why would I want to join your pile of smelly wolves?” Yennefer sniffs. 

Jaskier grins. He knew she would be too curious not to pull on that thread. “Because you crave affection just like the rest of us Yennefer," he says bluntly. "And if you hop off your high horse we will happily give it to you.” Shrugging Jaskier adds lightly, “And if you spend enough time with us and cease being an utter twat then my instincts will stop screaming at me to bite your head off every time you touch my mate.” 

Jaskier can’t help but feel some satisfaction at Yennefer’s widened eyes. An olive branch was probably the last thing the sorceress expected, especially since she has undoubtedly been getting her scent all over Geralt knowing exactly what that does to Jaskier. But just like Lambert two years ago, Jaskier doesn't mind being the bigger man, especially around injured animals. “I’ll leave you to ponder my offer,” Jaskier remarks before sauntering out the door. The seed is planted, now just to wait for tonight. 

When Jaskier wanders out of the library, it’s to find Ciri and Lambert sparring. Settling beside Eskel, Jaskier leans against a wall to watch. “Where’s Geralt?” Jaskier asks without taking his eyes off of the match. He’s relieved to see them using practice swords, unlike _some_ people in this bloody keep. 

“Getting the piss scared out of him by your mother,” Eskel snorts. 

Thumping his head against the wall Jaskier groans. “You don’t all need to threaten Geralt with bodily harm you know,” he states desperately. 

Humming Eskel replies, “We beg to differ. Geralt’s a bloody git and he needs some sense wacked into him. Literally.” 

Sighing, Jaskier drops the conversation, knowing he won't win, and watches with admiration as Lambert does a backflip to land behind Ciri, sword pressed against her throat. “Oh fuck you Lambert!” the teen hisses, dropping her sword with a huff. 

“Language!” Jaskier and Geralt call as Geralt trudges through the gate. 

Rolling her eyes Ciri groans. “You all swear all the time. Why can’t I?” 

Walking towards Ciri to gather her up in his arms and press a kiss to her head Jaskier croons, “Because you are a sweet innocent child who shall not poison her lips with such foul language.” A second later Jaskier is doubled over and wheezing from a punch in the gut. “I see you take after your father,” he gasps, gratefully leaning against Geralt as the witcher rushes up to support him.

“I’m going to the spring,” Ciri grumbles, marching away. At her mention of the spring Lambert and Eskel visibly pale. 

“I think I’ll join you child,” Marya murmurs, tossing her weapons at Geralt’s head. Catching them with a grumble Geralt turns his beseeching gaze to Jaskier. 

“Yes well speaking of the spring I believe some ground rules may need to be in order to maintain a safe and sane winter for all,” Jaskier calls after them.

“Keep dreaming pup,” Vesemir rumbles with amusement. “Now all of you come inside and help me finish readying dinner." 

*******

That night, two wolves, four witchers, and a princess are piled by the main hearth, bellies full and rumbling with contentment. After dinner Yennefer announced that she was going to bathe so no one expected to see her for the rest of the evening. That’s why everyone but Jaskier is surprised when the doors open once again and the sorceress sweeps in with her head held high. 

Kicking Geralt with her toe she orders, “Budge over.” Raising an eyebrow, Geralt scoots to the left so there is a patch of fur free. Gathering her skirts Yennefer settles delicately against Jaskier’s back with a huff. Though she lies there stiffly, as no one calls attention to her added presence beyond a subtle volume increase in Jaskier’s rumbling Yennefer slowly starts to relax. Well-she supposes she could endure this.


	6. Will You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt has a question to ask. You'll never guess Jaskier's answer.

Things are going great. Jaskier and Yennefer have been spending afternoons together learning to get along without Geralt’s influence, Ciri’s nightmares have decreased in frequency, a method to alert any innocent bystanders if the spring is being occupied has been installed, and Geralt’s affection and attention have ramped up an alarming amount. Like-a _shocking_ amount. Jaskier’s talking about cuddles and kisses throughout the day, flowers Geralt is most likely stealing from Vesemir’s greenhouse slipped into his songbook, and actual honest to gods _words of love._

So yes, Jaskier is living his best life right now. Well, he would be if Geralt would stop being so secretive. Because the witcher is not a good liar and Jaskier is a professional one so he can tell that the witcher is keeping something from him. And whatever it is Jaskier is pretty sure Lambert and Ciri are in on it because they keep shooting him matching shit-eating grins. Hells, for all he knows the entire keep is in on it but those two are just equally as bad at keeping secrets as Geralt. 

Part of Jaskier is sorely tempted to corner Ciri or Lambert because between bribery and promises of hair washing Jaskier knows their weaknesses. But the shifter is resigned to let it play out. After all, if it was anything bad Geralt would most likely be fighting for his life from another angry packmate. 

Jaskier’s heart hasn’t stopped soaring at how protective the rest of his pack have been. They’re Geralt’s family more than Jaskier’s and yet they were willing to fight the other witcher just to defend him. What do you do with that kind of loyalty, that kind of love? 

“Working on another sappy love song Songbird?” Lambert calls from where he’s sharpening his pile of weapons. 

Smiling softly Jaskier responds, “Not your ordinary love song, no.” At Eskel’s inquiring hum as he continues to read Jaskier explains, “It’s a song about family. About having each other’s back. Loosely inspired by recent events of course.”

“You’ll have to sing it for us when it’s finished little bird,” Marya remarks as she braids Ciri’s hair. 

“Remind me to be elsewhere when he does,” Yennefer snarks. Jaskier simply rolls his eyes. Though Yennefer and Jaskier continue to trade insults, they’re not as barbed as they were before. More like how Jaskier and Lambert acted at the start of their first winter together. So, progress, Jaskier determines.

Turning back to the current stanza he is working on, Jaskier barely registers the doors opening. When chapped lips press against his cheek and a heavy weight settles beside him, Jaskier climbs into Geralt’s lap, quill still working furiously. “I feel very used right now,” a voice rumbles dryly in his ear. 

“Hush pillow,” Jaskier says distractedly. “I think I finally have this rhyme scheme sorted.” 

Several minutes pass before Jaskier sets the quill down with a sigh. “Good enough for now,” Jaskier sighs. Turning to kiss his mate in greeting Jaskier asks, “How was the hunt with Vesemir?” 

A guilty look flashes across Geralt’s face and Jaskier follows the witcher's gaze down to where he is clenching his hands. “I wasn’t actually hunting,” he mumbles sheepishly. When Jaskier raises a brow in question Geralt huffs out a heavy breath before nudging Jaskier off of him. Distantly, Jaskier notes that all of the side chatter has halted as Geralt kneels in front of him with a look of-is that nervousness? 

“Jaskier-” Geralt starts, before pausing to lick his lips and fiddle with what’s in his hand. Glancing over to where Ciri is watching with an gleeful grin Geralt squares his shoulders, eyes gleaming with determination. “Jaskier. Over two decades ago my life was gray and bleak. Then this bard who had just gotten food thrown at him approached me with cheer and zero fear. And since then I’ve slowly found myself falling in love with this bard. And despite all I have done that should have made him run in the opposite direction, that should make him hate me, he has remained by my side as my loyal companion, my healer, my support system, my bloody compass and foundation and-” Geralt takes a breath. Jaskier realizes he’s holding his own. 

Golden eyes meet wide blue ones. “And I don’t want to spend another day without making it clear how much this man means to me. Without proving that he is the other half of my soul that I didn't know I was missing until he slotted into place.” Finally, Geralt unclenches his hands to reveal a wolf medallion matching his own in one and a carved dandelion in the other. “Jaskier the bard and shifter, will you marry me?” 

The room is so silent you could hear the fall of a raindrop. Jaskier sits there, jaw gaped open as he tries to process everything Geralt has said. Fuck, he never thought he would hear the witcher speak so openly about his emotions, especially around other people. But fuck Jaskier hasn’t said anything and Geralt is looking worried and- “FUCK! Yes! Obviously you bloody idiot!” Jaskier stammers out before throwing himself at his mate. 

Geralt catches him with a relieved sigh, gathering Jaskier close as he buries his nose in the crook of the shifter’s shoulder. “Thank you for giving me another chance,” Geralt mumbles into his hair. Pulling away, Geralt gently places the wolf medallion over Jaskier’s head. “It took me a couple tries to make it look alright and I know it’s not the nicest looking thing but-” 

Jaskier cuts him off with a fierce kiss. “It’s perfect,” he states fiercely. Lifting to admire it closely Jaskier frowns at a realization. “But how will I keep it safe in my shifts?” 

As Geralt hands Jaskier the dandelion necklace to place over the witcher's head (and that big sap-carving the flower he named Jaskier after when he was still hiding as a wolf) Geralt explains, “I had Yennefer enchant it so when you shift it shrinks into a collar.” Eyes widening with panic he scrambles to add, “Not that I’m trying to own you or anything but I-” 

Jaskier interrupts him again with a kiss more passionate than the last. He really thought of everything. Fuck. “Get a room!” Lambert calls to them. “There are innocent eyes in here.”

“For the last time stop calling me innocent!” Ciri growls.

“Hey cub I wasn’t talking about you I was referring to Eskel.” As Lambert gets himself tackled by an irritated witcher, Geralt decides that the youngest witcher’s advice isn’t actually too bad. Scooping Jaskier up, Geralt carries the shifter away. Time to celebrate his betrothal in some privacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. Thank you for reading! If you have any suggestions/prompts for this series, let me know. The next fic will most likely revolve around Jaskier's bio parents so stay tuned :-)


	7. Meet Me in the Middle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Since the whole debacle and misunderstanding with Yennefer a few weeks ago, Geralt has been working harder to use his words while Jaskier has been more comfortable approaching Geralt with any concerns he has. And Marya has noticed, which has been a relief for both Jaskier and Geralt. Recently she’s taken up sparring and hunting for real with Geralt, and though both activities include the use of very sharp weapons, they’ve slowly been building a relationship._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I said this fic was finished. But some people raised concerns about how Geralt was treated in this story and I wanted to address them, so here, have a bonus chapter! To those of you who weren't happy with how this fic played out, I hope this chapter brings some reassurance :-)
> 
> This is also in response to DarkInuFan's request to see some proof of Jaskier's fighting competence. I hope you enjoy!

The witchers are in the training area stretching before they begin sparring when Marya comes storming through. Geralt gulps. Since their “hunting trip” Marya has _slowly_ begun to soften towards Geralt. He knows she is fiercely protective of Jaskier and he doesn’t blame her, especially after the whole mountain incident. 

But since the whole debacle and misunderstanding with Yennefer a few weeks ago, Geralt has been working harder to use his words while Jaskier has been more comfortable approaching Geralt with any concerns he has. And Marya has noticed, which has been a relief for both Jaskier and Geralt. Recently she’s taken up sparring and hunting for real with Geralt, and though both activities include the use of very sharp weapons, they’ve slowly been building a relationship. 

But the fire in her eyes currently worries Geralt. Especially with the meek look Jaskier has as he trails behind her with a-is that a fucking sword? 

Oh no. 

Vesemir is walking over to Marya with a frown, clearly ready to mediate anything if needed. After nuzzling Vesemir and whispering something in his ear Marya turns to look at Geralt and Jaskier. “Geralt and Julian, you two are sparring with weapons. And no that’s not a request,” she growls. 

Geralt’s stomach plummets. He could never fight his bard, especially since Jaskier doesn’t even know _how_ to in this form. “That wouldn’t be a fair fight,” Geralt protests, crossing his arms. 

Marya’s lips twitch. “You may be right witcher,” she remarks vaguely. 

Well that’s not ominous at all. Why would she want to put her son in danger like that? Haven’t their hunting trips and spars been part bonding, part “I’ll hurt you if you hurt him” reminders? 

But Geralt notices with a jolt that Marya isn’t glaring at him. No-she’s scowling at Jaskier who is avoiding her gaze. What happened between them? Is this some kind of punishment for Jaskier? That just seems cruel and unlike her. 

When no other explanation comes, Geralt sighs. Best not to argue. Fine, he’ll simply have to go easy on him; just the idea of seeing Jaskier bleed is making Geralt nauseous. 

At this point Marya’s announcement has caught everyone’s attention and in a mix of apprehension and curiosity, they all clear the training ground to give the couple space. After one last pleading look to Marya Jaskier releases a heavy sigh. “You owe me so many biscuits after this,” he mutters, causing Marya to cackle. 

Shaking out his arms, Jaskier settles into what is a surprisingly accurate ready stance. Well, Geralt supposes that the bard has seen him fight enough times he’s probably picked up a few tricks. Shooting Vesemir a final questioning glance and growling when the older witcher simply looks placidly back Geralt readies himself. “To first blood,” Vesemir states. 

Skimming his eyes along the lithe body he has memorized by touch, Geralt ponders where he would feel the least sick pricking his mate when in a blur of motion Jaskier spins and thrusts into Geralt’s guard. On instinct, Geralt brings his sword up in a block and all thoughts of how he will attack are thrown out the window as he scrambles to defend himself. 

What the fuck. What the fuck. What. The. Fuck. 

Jaskier’s face is set in grim determination and he moves with a grace and fluidity Geralt has only seen when he sings and dances. Each movement is crisp and precise, his footwork light and complex as Jaskier continues to press into Geralt’s guard. 

Geralt’s mind is reeling. Every time he thinks he knows everything about his bard Jaskier will surprise him. But beneath that shock is a molten heat in his gut as Jaskier continues to fight like a seasoned warrior. 

Geralt wonders distantly what would happen if he allows himself to continue to be backed up until he’s pressed against the wall, Jaskier’s body flush against him and-fuck, this is _not_ the time to get aroused. 

Suitably distracted, Geralt is too slow as Jaskier spins to avoid his cut and begins to retaliate. The shifter feints downwards before twisting with rapid footwork and lunging so his sword is pressed to Geralt’s neck. 

What? The fuck? 

The two men stand frozen, breathing heavily as Geralt drinks in the salty smell of Jaskier’s sweat and the heated gaze the bard pins him with. Gods Geralt wants to taste every inch of his skin, he wants Jaskier to hold him down with that strength he hides so well until he- 

“This is a friendly reminder that the keep has a strict 'no fucking in public areas' policy as of this year,” Lambert calls. And just like that, the heated tension between them breaks and Jaskier lowers his sword. 

Glancing at their audience, Geralt notices that everyone, even Lambert, is wearing a look of surprise and awe except for Marya and Vesemir. Turning back to Jaskier Geralt raises an eyebrow. “You have something you’d like to share with the class?” he asks mildly. 

Groaning Jaskier throws his head back. “Fine yes I can bloody well fight because Marya didn’t want me to only know how to defend myself in my shifter form because she’s fucking _paranoid.”_

“You just lost biscuit privileges for a week with that comment pup,” Marya remarks as she strides over to them. Geralt’s lips twitch at Jaskier’s forlorn whine as the shifter droops. Marya has the entire keep wrapped around her little finger when it comes to her biscuits. He’ll just have to slip the bard some without her looking. 

Clapping Geralt on the shoulder Marya looks at him with a smirk. “As you said, it wasn’t going to be a fair fight.” A huff of laughter bursts out of Geralt’s chest. That’s why she was so cryptic before; Marya knew Jaskier would catch Geralt by surprise. 

Frowning at Jaskier Marya chastises, “You were slow on your parries. I want you to join their sparring practice everyday moving forward.” 

Geralt’s smile fades. Oh gods. He is going to die. 

Crossing her arms Marya adds with a growl, “And you are getting a bloody sword and I don’t want to hear about you not helping your witcher again. You two are mates now-that means you defend each other and you don’t keep secrets.” 

Geralt’s heart clenches at her words. Fuck, she was angry at _Jaskier_ for not communicating with _Geralt._ How the tables have turned. Geralt’s smile returns to his face. And she wants Jaskier to protect Geralt...he knew she was warming up to him. 

At this point Ciri is bounding toward them, throwing herself at Jaskier and forcing him to hurriedly drop his sword. “You were AMAZING!” she cries. “You GOTTA show me how you did that twist and lunge thing!” Gods the light in her eyes could brighten up any room. 

Throwing an arm around Geralt, Eskel remarks, “And you need to go over that parry and thrust you did too. Impressive.”

Jaskier beams at Eskel before looking sheepishly at Geralt. “Sorry I never told you,” he says with a bite of his lips. “You get so worried about my safety on hunts I never wanted to offer to help-didn’t want you distracted watching my back if I joined the fray. So I always stayed at the safe distance you insisted on. Just seemed easier not to argue with you anyway.” 

It makes sense. Just the concept of Jaskier being too close to a fight would fill Geralt with dread. But honestly Geralt should have realized that Jaskier was far more competent than he let on. He’s lost track of how many times the bard has drawn a dagger with surprising confidence to defend himself or, more frequently, Geralt’s honor. But Geralt would always step in before the shifter could actually do anything. 

But now Geralt’s imagination is running wild. 

Seeing Jaskier in action-not fighting Geralt but fighting an asshole in a tavern or a monster Geralt is hunting…the tangle of arousal and apprehension in Geralt’s gut is overwhelming. 

“Songbird, go take your witcher away before he smells up the whole keep,” Lambert complains with a groan, shoving Geralt towards the shifter. Jaskier's gaze darkens and Geralt can’t stop the shudder of want that ripples through him. 

Setting Ciri aside, Jaskier assures her, “I’ll show you all my tricks later,” before dragging Geralt away. Part of him thinks that Geralt should feel mortified at the fact that the entire keep is blatantly aware of what they are about to do, but the the majority of him couldn’t give less of a fuck. Time to see how Jaskier fights in the bedroom. 

*******

Later that night Geralt is sore in all of the best places as he’s sprawled in a pile of limbs between Eskel and Lambert, Vesemir settled in a chair beside them. Jaskier and Marya are shifted on a hunt while Yennefer and Ciri had an early night. If the explosions from earlier were any indication, their tutoring session got a bit intense. 

Geralt is dozing, content with a stomach full of food and surrounded by the scent of home. “You know you still owe me a wrestling match,” Lambert remarks sleepily, throwing a lazy hand over Geralt’s face. 

“Do I?” Geralt hums before licking his brother’s hand and chuckling at the shriek he receives in response. 

Hauling himself up Lambert peers down at where Geralt is lounging, eyes slitted open. “I was worried I needed to pound some sense into you,” Lambert explains offhandedly. 

At his remark Geralt pushes away the lingering fog of sleep, propping himself upright on an elbow. When it was clear by his stubborn gaze directed at anywhere but Geralt that Lambert was refusing to elaborate, Eskel chimes in. “We were worried you were doing your whole self-sabotaging thing again,” he rumbles, eyes closed as he rests against his pillowed arms. 

Oh. Of course. 

These three men know Geralt nearly as well as he knows himself and they’ve witnessed all of his darkest moments. There have been countless times in the past decades when Geralt has engaged in what Jaskier likes to describe as his “martyrdom complex.” And since words are not his forte, the other witchers have always had to fight Geralt to get the story out of him and help him recover from his latest “infuriating self-sacrificing bullshit.” Jaskier’s words again. 

If Jaskier hadn’t found Geralt before winter after the mountain incident, no doubt Lambert would have had to pummel the story out of him. 

A rush of warmth floods his chest. Sure, if any other family beat a member up to get him to talk that would probably be concerning. 

But these three men _know_ him. Geralt doesn't know how to just ask for help so he's always grateful for the fights they engage in. It helps him find the words he needs, it allows him to seek their support. Geralt can hear Jaskier lecturing him about "healthy ways of communicating" but he's a bloody witcher. They were taught not to feel, not to talk about emotions. Instead, they were taught to fight, and some habits are hard to quit. 

Eskel, Lambert, and Vesemir's behavior at the start of winter makes a lot of sense now. Though they would never admit it, they love him as much as Geralt loves them back. They’ve seen how much Geralt loves Jaskier so seeing the state the pair were in when they arrived must have worried them, Lambert especially. 

It’s not a secret that Lambert adores Jaskier, even if he denies it. Geralt can’t imagine the anxiety Lambert must have felt when he saw Jaskier and Geralt arrive. Fear that they were all going to lose Jaskier and worry that Geralt was engaging in some classic self-sabotage was probably tearing the witcher apart.

Raising himself fully upright until he is face to face with his brother, Geralt draws him into a rough hug. “Thank you for looking out for me,” he mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of his neck to soak in the scent of cinnamon that is all Lambert.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lambert grumbles, his words belied by the way he noses at Geralt’s throat. 

A warm body presses up behind Geralt. “It’s good to see you happy,” Eskel rumbles as he wraps his arms around Lambert and Geralt like the bear that he is. 

Glancing up, Geralt’s eyes widen at the fond expression on Vesemir’s face. He’s grateful for their talk before, even if it stretches most definitions of the word “talk.” Vesemir knew that Geralt wouldn’t be willing to speak if they weren’t fighting, doing something to help distract him from the discomfort of searching for the right words. Humming, Geralt closes his eyes, heart full with gratitude and love as he is surrounded by his family. 

*******

The next day Geralt nearly drops his sword when Jaskier is dragged to the training field by his ear by a growling mother. Shit, she wasn’t joking. He doesn’t know if he can keep his hands off of Jaskier if they’re paired together again. Shoving the bard to Vesemir Marya smirks. “Have fun pup.”

Part of Geralt relaxes. If Geralt doesn’t have to fight Jaskier then he won’t be making a fool of himself again like some hormonal teen. And if Marya wants Jaskier to brush off some dust she won’t be wanting to practice herself. He still has some lingering bruises from their last fight. Geralt gazes contemplatively between Eskel and Lambert. Given last night’s talk, Lambert would probably appreciate a few bouts. 

But Geralt’s plan is crushed to dust at Vesemir’s orders. “Eskel and Lambert practice signs. Geralt given your performance yesterday you clearly need some remedial practice. You’re paired with Marya. To the first blood.” 

Fuck. Geralt swallows at the feral grin the shifter shoots his way. From what she’s implied, Marya is about as old as Vesemir and her skill with weapons proves it. Fighting with her is fucking brutal. 

Fate sealed, Geralt launches on the attack and scowls at how quickly Marya parries and replies. Soon their swords are flying and Geralt’s thoughts are only on his next parry and attack. Which makes it very inconvenient when Marya has the breath and mental capacity to start a fucking conversation. “The proposal was well done,” she remarks, breathing steadily. Show off. 

Grunting, Geralt spins out of reach from her thrust and attempts to dip into her guard, only to be blocked. “Thanks,” he grits out, shuffling backwards as Marya tries to advance. 

“He and I had a long chat last night,” she adds as she sweeps her blade low before Geralt blocks it with a fluid arc.

“Hmm.” Ducking as Marya attempts a high chop Geralt glides into her guard only to be pushed back by a booted foot. Grunting at the impact (damn shifter strength) Geralt counters her follow through strike.

“He asked me to lay off you.” 

“I see you took his request to heart,” Geralt observes as he avoids being decapitated. 

Barking out a laugh Marya replies, “If you’re mated to my son I’m going to ensure you’re sharp enough to defend him.” 

Oh. No wonder she’s been kicking Geralt’s arse every bloody day. It’s training, not a test. It stems from worry, not anger or hate. 

Nodding before he rolls away from a thrust to his gut Geralt grits out, “You make quite the teacher. I’d pay to see you and Vesemir face off at some point.” At his words, Marya’s face breaks into a soft smile as she glances over to her partner, just as Geralt predicted.

Jackpot. 

With a rapid lunge and thrust Geralt nicks Marya’s arm. The shifter’s face morphs into shock before she breaks into a loud laugh. “Clever move my boy.” Huh. Marya has called him boy many times but never _my boy._ His lips twitch into a small smile. He’s growing on her. 

Sheathing her sword she reaches out a hand. “Good match,” Marya says with an approving nod. Shaking her hand, Geralt allows his smile to grow. If all it takes is for Geralt to get his arse kicked daily by this woman to get her to like him then he will gladly endure it. After all, if he wants to keep his mate safe it’s worth it to get some extra training in.

Thoughts turning to Jaskier, Geralt glances over to drop his jaw in shock when he realizes the bard an Vesemir are still fighting. Fuck, Jaskier has some stamina. Though, upon reflection, Geralt already knew that about his mate. In three rapid movements Vesemir sneaks into Jaskier's guard before swiping lightly at his arm. 

Without turning to him Vesemir barks, "Geralt go run the walls until you stop stinking like lust." 

Sheathing his sword Jaskier bows fluidly to Vesemir. "You know, I think I could get some extra endurance training in too," Jaskier remarks lightly, hurrying over to join Geralt. The witcher grins. Yes, perhaps they can work on their endurance together. 

"You're not fooling anyone pups," Marya calls exasperatedly as the pair scurry away. 

Ignoring her, Jaskier shoots Geralt a dirty smirk. "Whoever finishes running the walls first gets to bottom," he shouts before racing off.

A rush of lust shoots through Geralt. With a determined growl, Geralt begins running. Oh, he's gonna fucking win.


End file.
